


Burn Of Your Lips

by basketcasewrites



Series: Bella Inquietante [2]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Burns, Fire, M/M, No Smut, One Shot Collection, Soul Selling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-29 04:04:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10846101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basketcasewrites/pseuds/basketcasewrites
Summary: When you make deals with demons you're bound to get burned, no one knows this better than Peter.





	Burn Of Your Lips

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a continuation of part one. The stories don't follow each other, they're all stand-alones.
> 
> Partially from a prompt I saw somewhere: He grips the rim of the porcelain sink and tries to steady himself. "One last time," he whispers to himself. "One. Last. Time."

Peter knows that Wade is near. He can sense him -- can sense his arrival as clearly as if it has been announced. The air around him ripples; like waves created by skimming pebbles on the surface of still water. 

A shrill ringing begins in his ears, a shiver runs up his spine, his hands begin to shake. He grits his teeth painfully, breathing in and out slowly the way that Wade had taught him to do as he tries to calm his body against the violent reaction. 

He looks out of the small window, focusing on the sliver of darkened sky and trees he could only just make out. 

Wade continues to insist that the intensity of the reactions lessen as time passes, but it has been two years and he does not feel himself getting any better. 

He grips the rim of the porcelain sink and tries to steady himself. "One last time," he whispers to himself. "One. Last. Time."

Repeating the mantra to himself he breathes, clears his mind. 

Then, as if he belongs in Peter's bathroom, Wade is behind Peter. He stands in the doorway. Silently watching. Staring at Peter's naked back, lingering on the low waistband of Peter's sweats. 

Blood rushes to Peter's face, flushing crimson under the scrutiny. He is glad that he is not facing Wade, knowing that his blush would be darker if he could the man's eyes, his lustful expression.

Moments pass in the usual first minutes of quiet, neither of them speaking. The only sound is the hushed sound of Peter breathing, echoing in the bathroom. His heart rate begins to normalise, his body to relax and he wonders unguardedly if this is like foreplay for Wade. The waiting, the watching, the anticipation.

He smiles, biting down on his lip, shaking his head slowly from side-to-side. Shaking his head clear. Often, in these moments of regaining his composure his thoughts ran amok. Though, he is glad, as the wilder they get the faster he calms down.

Wade moves as silently as if his feet did not touch the ground, what should have been heavy footsteps never making a sound against the tiled bathroom floor. He seems to always know more about Peter than Peter knows about himself; knows that he is ready. He closes the gap between them, standing mere inches from Peter. His body radiates heat. His breath, against Peter's neck, is warm. 

He places a hand on either side of the sink, close beside Peter's but not close enough to touch. 

Gently, he presses his mouth to the smooth, unblemished exposed skin of Peter's slim back. He is careful, mindful of the boy as he writhes, his spine arching under Wade's touch. He lets out a sharp hiss at the burning of Wade's lips, holding back a gasp. 

Peter doesn't let go of the sink, gripping onto it tighter as Wade trails kisses over his uncovered back. He leans into Wade, into the softness of his lips as the fiery sensation subsides.

"Peter," Wade says, his mouth against Peter muffling his words, tickling the younger man with each breath. He draws out each syllable of the name breathlessly.

Melting into the feel of him, Peter peels his fingers away from the edge of the sink. Only when he loosens his hold and feels pain jolt through his hands does he realise how tight he had been gripping onto it. He flexes his fingers, urging blood to flow through them.

He turns to Wade, secure in the feel of strong arms on either side of him. 

Peter allows his eyes to travel over Wade's face, running his hands over the man's strong, muscled chest. He bites down on his bottom lip, lifting his hands to touch the slight stumps protruding from Wade's forehead. For all of Wade's powers and abilities, he could never properly hide this part of him. 

It was the one give away to his true form, the one flaw to his otherwise perfect disguise.

"Show me your true self," he whispers, as he always does, pleading.

Another moment of silence passes and just like every other time, Wade smiles, shaking his head 'no'. He gazes at the boy through half-closed eyes, "You wouldn't let me stay if you saw my true self."

Wade leans in and kisses him. Slow, allowing Peter to once again get used to the heat of his body. Peter laces his delicate fingers through Wade's thick hair, tugging him in closer and deepening the kiss.

It burns, sears through him. But it is heavenly -- he smiles against Wade's lips as the thought flits through his mind. Maybe 'heavenly' isn't the best word to describe whatever they are doing. No, 'heavenly' is definitely the worst word to describe his liaisons with Wade.

Peter itches to have Wade lay his hands on him, to have his fingers mark him with barely a touch. If he were braver -- if he were brave at all -- he would take the man's hands and place it on his body, nudge him onwards to more private places. 

Often, Peter wondered if these romantic thoughts he had were indeed his own or if they were simply deluded imagines sent to him through Wade.  
Often, he ignores that part of his mind, preferring not knowing than to dwell. 

Wade pulls away, tugging at Peter's swollen bottom lip as he does so, allowing Peter to catch his breath. He looks at Peter, watching the rapid rise and fall of his chest.  
Wade's giving him an opportunity to say what it is he has to say, Peter knows. 

He hesitates, knows what he has to say -- he has practised this exact moment countless times over the past week. It is different, however, saying it to his reflection and saying it to Wade as he stands in front of him. One of those two were unpredictable.

"This is the last time," Peter stresses firmly, looking Wade directly in the eye.  
He wonders if he should repeat himself, instantly decides against it. Repetition equals redundancy.

Wade nods, agreeing with him, "If it is what you want. Then, this is the last time." 

Peter closes his eyes, nodding his head once and linking his hands around Wade's neck. He feels Wade inch closer to him, his strong hands grabbing at the back of his thighs and hoisting them around Wade's waist. Submissively, he allows himself to be carried to the bedroom down the hall. 

Few words are uttered between them -- exclamations of ecstasy, of pure pleasure. The hours pass in a haze of intimate kisses and probing touches.

Peter's body burns, the pain hitting him at a full-force as he comes down from his high. He glances at his arms, the skin darkened black -- burnt -- where Wade had touched him. Need not to look at the rest of his body, knowing that others covered him.

Wade's fingertips, Wade's hands, Wade's lips leaving themself imprinted on him. They never scarred, lasted for only a few hours, yet the pain would blaze through his body for days afterwards.

He nestles under the blankets, watching Wade as he dresses into the crumpled clothes he had arrived in.

"It's done?" he asks seriously, almost fearful to speak. He never should have been playing with demons to begin with; they never play fair.

"Yes," Wade say, smoothing his button up black shirt over torn jeans. He looks at Peter, meets his eyes with a mischievous smile, "Your debt is paid in full."

"Okay," Peter begins quietly, unsure of himself now. He wonders if he should ask, if asking is the best option, or whether he should leave it as it is. He watches Wade slip into his jacket and begin to walk out the door. He speaks up, "And- My- My soul- How will I know that it's back? Do I sign a contract... or something?"

Wade stops at the door, pauses mid-step. Peter watches him nervously, wary of Wade and his sudden stillness.

"Sweetheart," Wade says, turning his head to see Peter over his shoulder, his eyes shining bright with restrained laughter. "You've had it this whole time: it's why you burn so brilliantly when I lay one of my cursed little fingers on you."


End file.
